Another Day
by Zirconin
Summary: "This was life kind of funny, kind of sad. It was, of course, another day." Here is a man worn down by time, suffering in silence. He hoped his luck would change, his life would pull itself together, and perhaps it would. He could only hope. (?/?, pretty easy to tell later on.)
1. The Lakeside

**(AN: Hey there. I'm glad you're reading this, so thanks. This is my first fic ever, despite being a lurker here for a very long time. Hopefully you enjoy it, and please don't hesitate to lay it on me. This is intended to have several parts, so please bear with me as school imposes suffering through papers on me. I'm a little late on the uptake here with an Awakening story with Fates being out, aren't I? Anyway, happy reading!)**

Another day, spent in the same way.

Another day, standing in the same spot he did every day.

Another day… another day of life passing him by.

The brown-haired male, caught somewhere late between boy and man, stared down at the ground. He had grown tired of the same old thing. Day after day, he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he should go home. It seemed pointless to be here, surrounded by all these great people, while he remained in the shadows, wishing for more. He sighed and pulled himself up off of the ground, brushing off the seat of his trousers and wiping the resulting dust from his palms. _I suppose, at least_ , he thought, to comfort his wandering mind, _I can be relieved that it's only another regular day, rather than something terrible_.

Shifting his gaze to the hills in the distance, he couldn't help but feel the loneliness setting in again. It had bitten his heart countless times, some days worse than others, and he bit his lip in the same way. He always held it all back. Not that anyone would really care, anyway. The hills taunted him, beckoning him back to his home. But he realized it was just fantasy. Nothing would be changed, as much as he hoped it would be, even if he went back. His brother would be different, of course, but the lingering feeling of sorrow would still hold him captive. His face grew wistful at the thought.

The passersby continuing about their business as usual, he spent his time politely stepping out of their way. He made a point to stay out of their path overall, knowing that he wasn't really welcome. Sure, they let him stay there and fight beside them, but everything had always been different for him. It's like all everyone ever saw in him was that he was just… there. Or maybe not. He felt he wasn't worth all that much to begin with.

 _I'd hoped for better, but I guess I can deal with this._

He gave up on his sightseeing and walked away from the camp, making his way to a place he'd always found to help him forget, or at least escape for a little while. The lake glittered in the light of the afternoon sun, the glistening waters lapping at the lakeshore, back and forth, back and forth, the metronome of the vale. His troubled face lightened at the sight. Another part of his life that remained constant, yet he loved it instead. Something about the ebb and flow of the lake's tide set him at peace. It never changed. It was eternally doing what it did, perhaps because that was all it could do. Maybe he saw himself in the lake somehow. He, too, did all he could.

He chuckled as he walked toward the water, tracing his hand along the bark of the birches that lined the shore. The peeling parchment-like exterior of the wood felt soft against his fingertips, caressing him in their familiar embrace, but all good things must come to an end. He left the tree line to stand at the edge of the pebbled beach. The water gathered right before where he stood, and he fought the urge to take a step into the tide. He loved the feel of the water, but the oncoming evening had cooled the world around him. "It would be senseless to get wet now," he murmured to himself, deciding it might be better to take a step backwards instead.

Leaning down to pick up a pebble and inspect it, his feet sank into the soft shore, beginning to cover his shoes with flecks of dirt and pebble pieces. His eyes glazed as he looked past it, the world before him out of focus again, as his mind drifted back to the same empty thoughts. Even here, he couldn't fight it sometimes. How the world works, a mystery to him, but it happened all the same. He thought back to the final time he'd tried to connect with another, the time where he began to confront his fate.

...

"Excuse me… Cordelia?"

The red-haired Pegasus Knight looked up from her task at hand, put down the dishes, and turned to face him. "Oh! You surprised me, haha. I was so lost in scrubbing, I suppose. Is there something I can do for you?"

The man paused for a few moments, then tentatively posed his question. "Do you think that the other Shepherds like me?"

Cordelia raised her brows. "What led you to believe that they don't? I've never seen anything unappealing about you."

"But, well, the problem is, I don't think people really care if… hm. They don't care whether I'm around or not, o-or so it seems."

"Ah. I don't understand why you would think such a thing. Of course you're appreciated. You work hard and you're very agreeable overall."

Sighing, he avoided her questioning gaze and murmured, "It just doesn't feel that way, I suppose. Maybe it's me that's the problem, not everyone else." He shook his head and met her eyes once more. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have troubled you with this. It's very silly."

"No, you haven't wasted my time, if that's how you feel about it. I'm happy to hear you out. I'm sure all this must hurt you. Doesn't it?"

The man remained silent. He didn't want to validate those feelings. He'd rather just pretend they didn't exist, at this point. Despite her assurance otherwise, he really had distracted her from more important work than his feelings.

"I'm very sorry that it upsets you. If it means anything to you, I'm glad you're around. You've contributed just as much as anyone else," she said, her face shifting into a warm smile. He felt himself grow more anxious at the thought of feeling worthy, being appreciated. _What's this? Why would I be afraid of what I want? I… what? This doesn't make sense. This doesn't make sense! Why?_

He found himself stepping back and nodding his head, giving muffled words of gratitude and quickly leaving the area. His thoughts were scrambled, almost panicked. Breathing heavily, he'd left the camp and found somewhere quiet to calm himself, in his solitude once more. _She went right back to work, as if nothing had happened. I saw it. What have I done wrong?_

...

The waves swept ahead of him as he remembered, the crashing hurricane he felt within overpowering their sound. Eyes brimming with tears, he swiped them away angrily with the sleeve of his coarse brown sweater. The material scratched at his face, an unpleasant, painful sensation. He wiped endlessly, new tears coming to replace their predecessors. And soon, he was frozen, crouching there in solemn silence. Slick trails traveled down his cheeks and he began to choke on his newborn sobs, bringing his hands to his throat in an attempt to block them out.

It was no use. He hunched over and kneeled in the pebbles, water squeezing out under his knees, and placed his hands ahead of him in the tide. The water consumed his hands, just as it consumed the searing tears dropping down. **Gods, how small you are! Weak, even!** , his thoughts screamed at him. He couldn't even cry out anymore. His throat was too closed to manage anything but stilted squeaks and the cut-off attempts of his voice to break through the barrier.

He gave in to the weakness, letting himself sink lower into the lakeshore. Water seeped into his clothes and soaked through to his skin. His face hovered over the water as his arms began to quiver from supporting his body on unsteady ground and, finally able to speak again, he only let out a pitiful wail. He sobbed, racked with internal unbearable pain for what seemed like hours, but the initial impact eventually subsided.

Slowly, he began to calm down, the screeching burn of his mind fading into nothing. He couldn't bear to move, feeling sad and sore, so he let himself lay there in the ever-moving water that was beginning to chill. The sunset had worked its way to the horizon now, he saw, and he knew that this time was at an end. What a waste of time it had been.

He would not let the lies break him down next time. He promised that. Well, he tried, anyway.

Standing up carefully and pulling off pebbles indenting his skin, he took a deep shaky breath. This place wasn't a safe haven anymore. It had been tainted. Hopefully he could find another place and end this cycle. All he could do now was hope. He'd hope for one day, then another day, then another…

 _I can't accept this weakness. I must remain strong._

He'd said it so many times, he wasn't sure if it mattered anymore. Walking away from the spot, he had another idea that started to gnaw on his mind. Why was this so sudden, so… abrupt? _I've never fell so quickly before._ What was was different just now from all the other times? He wished he knew. Unfortunately for him, there was no more he could do about it for the present time. The man decided it would be best to just leave things be and forget today. Maybe the problems would solve themselves if he left them alone.

 _Good night, lake. See you around._


	2. Biscuits and Birch

**(AN: Hey again! Hopefully those of you reading this are pleased with my offering here. Sorry if it's a bit short, but the next should be longer. Please don't hesitate to critique, and happy reading!)**

The morning came, as it was wont to do, and still he found himself no less troubled. The events of the previous day had rattled him. He normally was able to beat down the feelings or at least conceal them with a smiling coat of pleasantry. Yet, here he was, trembling in his bed. He hadn't alerted anyone else with his fear-driven shakes, so he at least had that to be thankful for. Burying his head in his sheets, he took a few moments and composed himself to some degree.

He had always acted like nothing bothered him. He would smile and remain pleasant, his eyes closed in a mirthful facade. They walked by him often, noting nothing but their own goals, and he could generally do as he pleased. There was little for him to do, though. He polished weapons, he cleaned armor, he tried to cultivate plants, and it was always in vain. He still felt as if there was no point in anything he did. But so it goes.

He glanced over at his tentmate, a more lithe man of similar age, who was still buried under his blankets. Wistfully, the brown-haired man rose from his bed and peeked out of the flaps of the tent. It was early morning, dawn's warming light beginning to emerge from the clouds. He smiled. _At least it's going to be beautiful weather today_. Rain never helped his mood much. The whole camp would become dreary and the dark clouds seemed to absorb all motivation from the Shepherds. Thankfully, today was not one of those days.

Feeling much more chipper than he had expected from his earlier awakening, he walked out into the middle of camp and had another look around. _Yes, everybody's still asleep. I don't blame them._ From having watched the others, he noted that everyone was working twice as hard as usual. Maybe there's something coming up soon that they forgot to tell me, he mused, changing his course to head for breakfast.

 _There might be some of Lissa's pie left from the other night. Though I don't know if I want to spend the rest of the week retching, so… maybe not._ He found himself suppressing a laugh at his own little joke.

However, there was more important work to be done. Breakfast, the meal of champions, or so he had always thought. He rummaged through their makeshift storage area, hoping that there was something that hadn't rotted in the rain and warmth brought on by spring. Lucky for him, a few flaky (albeit rather dry) biscuits appeared after reaching hand deep into a crate. He was just glad they were in a bag instead of being just shoved in there.

Turning on his heel, bag of morning's meal in hand, he suddenly came to a stop. Someone else had awoken. He wondered if they'd notice the biscuits were gone. Guilt usually set in once they checked the box and groaned, but today, this was different. His tentmate with a bottomless pit for a stomach had wandered in. He held back another laugh, knowing that the other man would be deeply invested in finding something to eat. Hoping that his tentmate hadn't wanted those biscuits after all, he slipped out of the haphazardly-built shack and made his way back to the tent.

The biscuits were delicious. _Well, besides the weird color, but… food is food._

He went about his usual day of chores and standing around. An afternoon walk around the perimeter made him glance longingly at his tent, his mood having fallen progressively throughout the day. He perused the possibility that solitude in there now, while empty, might fix it. He wouldn't be truly alone in the evening, after all. His tentmate always made his way there at the usual time. He smiled. _I at least have that constant, hah. A constant I don't mind so much._

Still, he felt that maybe he should stay away from the tent for a while longer and try to do something else of worth.

After the evening rations were doled out, the brown-haired man did as he'd wanted to all day, settling himself on his somewhat uncomfortable bed and finishing up some celery. The snapping hadn't attracted any weird looks just yet, but it was at least distracting him for a short time. He'd begun to think those thoughts again. They snapped at him with stone-cold teeth, snap snap, like the celery. The worry that they were getting worse had crept in recently, too. It just wasn't natural. It didn't feel all that great, either, as he was well aware by now. Snap, snap, snap. He'd be the celery if he didn't keep it together.

His tentmate broke him from his reverie by busting into the tent and burying his nose in a leather bag stuffed with all kinds of what the brown-haired man had deemed useless stuff. The other man emerged from his bag with a stray piece of steel in hand and rushed out again.

The man furrowed his brow, watching his tentmate hurry away to the other side of camp. "I wonder what he's up to," he said aloud to himself, leaning over to try to see what was going on. It must be important or, at the very least, important to him somehow. No one hurries like that for no reason. Yet, his curiosity diminished rather quickly. Bored, as usual, he decided he might search for somewhere else he could go to for peace. He amused himself by the pace at which he walked, which he found to be just as swift as his tentmate's. Slight excitement hit him as he headed deeper into the woods at the northern edge of the camp. There would be a perfect place out here somewhere, he was sure.

And so it was. He trod past fallen leaves, a shovel stuck in the ground, a swarm of ants going after abandoned fruit... It had always been an interesting place, even in the little things. He eventually raised his eyes to look at his surroundings, then continued onward. A little alcove of shorter, younger birches revealed itself in a matter of minutes. The man grinned and surveyed the area thoroughly. Lovely birches like his old spot? Check. Solitude granted by masses of trees? Check. Warm, inviting, green? Check, indeed.

 _Perfect._

Coming to rest near a thicker band of trees, he was content. This would be a nice place for him. The white trees all around muffled the sounds of most things below them, while contributing their own sounds of birds and furry tree-hopping critters. He hoped no one would find this place too soon. There was little doubt in his mind that someone would discover it eventually, what with all the patrols of the perimeter, but he had it all to himself for now. _A bittersweet find, I guess._

Soft springy grass brushed against his hands. He'd donned his armor today, which he did most days. Yesterday had been an exception, he supposed. He was tempted to take it off now, wanting to feel the green surround him. After a minute or so of thought, he gave in. He slipped off greaves, plates, everything but his clothes, and put them off to the side. Splaying out in the grass, a peaceful feeling overcame him. It was a welcome experience, soothing and even comforting, being surrounded by the world like this. The clouds in the sky drifted softly past high-flying birds. He watched them go, a blissful expression revealed by his half-closed eyes, and the troubles haunting him melted away.

 _Another day… but maybe "another day" isn't bad._


	3. Accidents

He was wrong. Horribly wrong.

The practice javelin in the shoulder had been a great way to start out his routine. Any other day, the little problems would have consumed his mind. Now, it was those plus a throbbing bloody wound. Obviously, life was peachy.

This had to happen on a day where he felt somewhat happy, where he felt like he could carelessly wander the camp and block the intrusive thoughts. The streaking pain down his arm told him that he had a faulty view on life.

Blood spattered, gasps sprang forth from mouths all around, the javelin quivered and fell to the ground. In a matter of seconds, he fell face-forward into the dirt, and everyone surrounded him. A voice came to him, deep and sinister, from the pit of his feverish thoughts. **How unusual** , the smirking voice said, **that the time people care is when something bad has happened. Kind of funny, if you think about it**.

The throaty laughs of the voice faded out as he considered it all: the usual pain, the fraying nerves, the growing restlessness, all of it. Here he was again. It was, of course, another day.

 _Yes, another gods-damned day_.

Dizziness came from all sides. He was almost amused with himself, toying with the notion that perhaps he'd finally die. Get it over with, right in front of everyone. He could barely suppress laughter at the irony. That was mostly from the blood loss. Reliving the javelin tearing out of shoulder was starting to make him sick. He was at least relieved that it fell out at all. He'd never wanted to be on a skewer. And so, flat on the ground, as pitiful as ever, he could only stare into the earth. It was becoming unbearable. He laughed shakily, knowing they were all staring at him with wide eyes, and resisted the urge to cry.

 _He's right. It is funny._

The blood had made a thick pool in the dirt when the world around him hushed. It grew dark, and for a moment, he felt at peace.

...

...

... "-e's absolutely covere-"

..."-ourse he's bloody, knucklehead. It's not like he got hit by a toothpick."

"Sully, you're really hurtin' me here, buddy."

"Yeah, well, too damn bad, _Teach_."

"Hey, The Vaike doesn't have to take th- Heyyy! There you are, Chrom. Check him out, it's pretty brutal."

"Let me see." He could tell the blue-haired prince above him paused for a moment to inspect the damage, even in his fuzzy state. "Gods, that's a deep wound. Is he going to be alright?"

"I have seen much worse. I believe he will recover normally, but we have yet to see how he feels when he awakens."

The voices were now clear as day, and the darkness lining his view was weakening. He felt like death. _What even happened to me? Why am I in here?_ He lifted his head slightly, eyes still bleary, and looked around.

"Hey, he's getting up."

"Ah, then he's finally come to. It is always good to take one step forward into life, though perhaps small."

"Aw, quit it with the poetry, Libra. The guy's already got to suffer enough."

He noticed the priest had quietly dismissed the redhead's statement and was leaning down to examine him. Looking into his eyes and seeing the absolute good nature in there was certainly something comforting. He had to admire Libra's conviction and tireless devotion to his work, even though he kept poking around the wound and making him want to scream. He knew it was for a good cause, but gods, did it hurt like hell.

"Naga must have smiled upon you. A few more minutes or a larger javelin and you may have perished." _If only_ , he tiredly thought to himself, grimacing. The other visitors in the room watched the priest do his work, a sudden quiet coming over them. They seemed in wonder of his work. Eventually, each Shepherd left the medical tent, deciding it wasn't helpful standing around the wounded man all day. Chrom and Frederick lingered for quite a while, talking in low voices and looking at the wounded man occasionally. The prince shook his head and gave a dejected look toward the injured Shepherd, as if there was something he felt he should have done. After some time, they both departed.

Libra kept pressing a hand against the brown-haired man's arm and shoulder lightly and speaking some flowery words, all of which he ignored. He didn't feel like listening and was starting to feel too out of it to really comprehend it anyway. The pain was kicking him around with each touch from the priest. He just wanted to go back to his tent and sleep for a few millennia.

"It may be a day or two, or perhaps a week, before you can leave. This wound is rather grievous, but it seems you will be in an acceptable condition in that time, so..."

The man stared away from the priest, hoping that Libra might decide to turn to other tasks. He didn't really desire to be rude, but he preferred that he be left alone for the time being and was in no mood for pleasantries. The feelings had distracted and rattled him; maybe that was why he had walked into the line of fire at the training area in the first place. Maybe he had ventured with the intent of disappearing for certain, or... He withheld a shudder and tried to think of something else. There was nothing to be done about all that now.

It was mere minutes before the blonde left to finish up other tasks and tend to other injuries, having lost himself in his other pending work. The man breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes once more. He intended to stay here for as little time as possible and he was rather sure he would be able to sneak out of the tent. Still, he felt it to be a pain that this was happening in the first place.

"Oh, wow, you really took that javelin, didn't you?"

 _Hm._ His tentmate had arrived, hair as unruly as ever and a concerned look on his face. He supposed he was nice, having come all this way to see him. His good will towards others was always something the wounded man admired. He wished he could be half as helpful, caring, or friendly as his tentmate. Yet, the feeling of this kind of interaction, even with this agreeable guy, was a bit strange; he had never had sympathy directed towards him that he could remember. He appreciated his tentmate's sentiment anyway. It was pleasant to be spoken to first for once.

"So, how are you feeling? I mean, I can't imagine great, but is it terrible?"

"No… not so much. It certainly hurts, but it could be worse by far."

The other man smiled at his words. "Right. That's a good way to look at it! And, hey, it gets you relieved from the usual duties, at least. You'll certainly have a lot of free time."

A groan just barely escaped his lips and he closed his eyes again. It's not like he had a very interesting life to start, and with nothing to do, he was sure he would lapse back into major negativity. He looked up at his tentmate with eyes he wished could be revealing, but he only produced that long-time gentle facade.

"Yes, that's true. I'm not sure what I'll do, but I imagine there's some way to make myself useful," he said softly.

"That's great. I really hope you get your strength back as soon as you can. It's certainly sad to see you in such a state."

 _I'm pretty sad to see._ He smiled somewhat weakly. He supposed the other man would interpret this as a smile of amusement. It was mostly uncomfortable and forced.

His tentmate of tousled hair shifted his weight from side to side, obviously eager to leave. The injured man supposed that there were better things for his visitor to be doing. It was just another Wednesday besides his incident. Life was going on as usual. "Hey, I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier. I was out of camp, but here I am. I wanted to ask... well, nah, I won't. "

"You can say, I won't be offended," the injured man assured.

"Ahhh, you just seem like you want to be left alone right now."

"I would say you're right. I'm exhausted."

The enthusiastic smile slipped back onto his tentmate's face and he quickly bid his injured comrade goodbye, wishing him well and promising another visit soon. The man rested his head against the pillow after his visitor's departure, making himself more comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could be. Some time passed before he felt himself nodding off.

"Um, excuse me, a-are you awake?"

He jolted up, releasing a hiss through his teeth as the pain punished him for the movement, and glared at the intruder. It was Sumia. She looked absolutely horrified. Something inside him clenched as tears formed in her eyes, and he tried his best to smooth the ruffles he'd just created. _Wow, I'm really a terrible person today._

"Sumia, I'm not- I hadn't intended to make that face. I'm very sorry, it's not you. It's just the pain." His voice gave away his feelings, like he was just barely holding the situation together, and anyone else would've been able to sense his anxiety. Thankfully, the pegasus knight was oblivious as always and began to calm down, accepting his words as they were. She stood at the tent's opening, watching him. She wiped her eyes and stared at just below eye level. She looked pained.

"It was my fault."

He watched her in silence. What could he say to that?

"I hit you with m-my javelin. I had to tell you it was me." She teared up again and looked down at the ground, grabbing hold of the edge of her skirt and twisting it like a rag. "I d-didn't mean to, it just- it just happened! I threw it and it was a little off and you were there and by the time it was coming down I noticed it would hit you and not the target but it was too late and- gods! I'm so sorry, I messed up again, and this time..." The girl trailed off, looking at his shoulder. She brought her hands to her mouth and covered it, still whispering apologies through her fingers.

He needed to speak now or forever be her guilt. "Sumia, please don't be upset. Even though it hurts a lot and I didn't want it to happen in the first place, you shouldn't blame yourself. You didn't throw it because you wanted to hurt me. Er, I hope."

"N-no, of course not!"

"Then everything is okay. You have nothing to feel bad about. And if you do still feel guilty, I forgive you."

"But-"

"No, really."

She was unconvinced, but allowed a small smile anyway. "Well, I'm glad you're sort of okay. I made you a pie, but you don't look like you're in any shape to eat it. I'll hide it away so Bottomless-Pit doesn't get to it before you." A real smile crossed her tear-streaked face at her own joke, and he couldn't help but feel a little better at her happiness. "I should leave you, though. I've been enough of a pain to you today. Have a good evening and get well soon." She brushed the tears from her face and stepped out of the tent, waving at him before walking away. He watched as she headed off to her destination, wherever that would be.

The scenario had been a little more intense than he had expected. However, the man felt that he would at least be alone for the remainder of the evening. He still needed nightfall to do what he wanted.

So he waited for night to come.

In the darkness, he found a near-same solitude as those secluded places he loved. Even though he always desired to be alone, he never wanted to be mean or ignore them. Not usually, anyway. Out in the light is where he saw them and, though he knew they were kind and compassionate people, he would rather stay out of their path altogether. He only caused more trouble. After the events of the day, he felt sure that it was better this way, for everyone involved. He carefully lowered himself from his bed and checked for anyone watching, creeping to the tent flaps as quietly as possible.

Under the blanket of dull stars and the black sheet behind, he was just about impossible to find. Having become adept at hiding throughout his life, it was never much work to stay out of sight anymore. He still had to watch his sound. That was always what seemed to alert people to his presence. With this in mind, he crept out of the tent with a hand clutched over his thickly-bandaged shoulder. The man headed for the woods with a singular goal: make it to the birch place. He trekked over budding plants and young shrubs, leftover patches of dry grass occasionally crackling under his feet.

After a few minutes of walking, there he was. It was hauntingly beautiful at night: still peaceful, yet shrouded in mystery. It instilled some small fear in him, though, which he admitted he didn't really need. Still, he took a seat on the cool grass in front of the birches. He leaned against one to support himself and stared out into the shadows, searching for any sign of danger.

It was a sight to live for, despite the darkness obscuring the world ahead of him. The stillness of the night was comforting, somehow. It reminded him of the safety of a dark room, knowing that being unseen was good sometimes, perhaps even protective. He could just stay here until morning if he so desired. It wasn't necessarily a bad idea. _Or am I mad, being out here so late? Who knows what could be hiding around me._ He imagined that being devoured by a bear or another large beast would be a terrible way to go. _Really, being eaten by anything at all would be unpleasant._

A sudden crack of a branch under an ironclad foot startled him from his meandering thoughts. He turned to investigate and nearly jumped out of his skin.


	4. Even in the Dark

**(AN: Hi! Sorry for the wait, if you were expecting this sooner. School's been a pain lately, but I salvaged as much as I could to finish this up. The story's not quite over yet, though, so stay tuned, and I'll do my best to deliver in a timely manner. Happy reading!)**

His tentmate.

That worried look bored into his soul.

He couldn't understand how the man had located him, nor why he was so far from camp at such a late hour. All he knew is that the other man was unwelcome here. He stood up abruptly, unable to meet the man's eyes.

"May I ask why you're sitting here in the dark?" The tone was of friendly concern rather than derision, but it irked him all the same. He couldn't think of a suffieciently logical answer, so he said whatever first came to his mind.

"The medicine tent was hot. I decided to come here where it's cooler."

An eyebrow lifted told the man that the lie hadn't worked in the slightest. "Oh, come on, don't give me that. No one in their right mind would be skulking around in the dark for no good reason and with a fresh javelin wound."

"Then I'm not in the right mind," he retorted, then softened his gaze and finished quietly, "I mean… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm sure that you can't be too happy, what with the pain." The other man paused for a moment, then added, "Do you need any help, by chance? I have about half of a vulnerary in my bag, if you want it-"

"N-no, that's quite alright. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt." That was, as he too well knew, a definite lie.

"Hm. You're sure?"

"Yes, I am. Please don't worry about me."

His tentmate's deepening concern for him made him nervous. He wondered what it was that was making the other man pay so much attention to his wellbeing. It wasn't worth the time to focus on him so much, and the intrusion into his secret place could only last so long.

The other man spoke up again, his tone warm but hushed. "Hey… you know you can come to me, if you want. I know you're a little newer than the rest of us Shepherds, and haven't meshed much with the even newer additions. That must be hard on you, right? I felt like that earlier, too. A little out of place, feeling awkward and like you don't fit in with the rest, and the fighting with Plegia isn't any help. But everything falls into place at some point. If that's what you feel, keep your head up. It'll all change and you'll feel right at home."

His words were met with silence. The brown-haired man stared at the ground, refusing (or, at this point, unable) to answer. His tentmate watched him carefully, then leaned slightly forward and placed his hand on the man's good shoulder.

"I'm here for you, friend."

The man tensed, fighting the insane, violent urge to shove his tentmate away from him. Somewhere inside, however, he wanted this. He was important for a moment. Someone cared about him. He knew someone would have his back. The rush of emotions was overwhelming and he moved toward his tentmate's form, feeling weak…. dizzy. He felt horribly dizzy. It was like he…

"H-hey! Don't die on me, okay?"

"Wha, huh? What?"

"You look like you almost passed out on me there. I thought maybe you were walking toward the light." The other man grinned half-heartedly, traces of his previous horror still settled on his face. "Gods, you scared the daylights out of me. We should get you back to camp. I'm no healer, and I don't want you to be dead, believe me."

 _Do you really?_ Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break free. Even while now sitting down on the ground, the world was spinning. He felt so sick. So tired. So finished. He couldn't bear to hold himself together, or even hold himself up. So weak, this wound was playing with his mind, this wound was making him crumble, this wound… this wound. _I'm sorry, I can't even be hurt correctly_. Letting his deadweight into his tentmate's arms, the dam broke and his grief ran free.

His tentmate kept him from falling with braced arms, suddenly hit with panic, and leaned him against the tree. The man's body slid down to rest on the dirt and his tentmate then noticed the hitching sobs, the chest racking, the hands covering the face, the tears still squeezing through.

"Oh, oh no. Gods, I'm sorry. Did I… gods, was it me?"

"N-no!" The man's voice wavered in pitch, pitiful and out of volume control. "I-I'm sorry for..."

"No, no, it's alright! You don't need to apologize. I would never, not in a hundred centuries, ask that of you. How terrible I'd be!" the other man said to him, obviously distressed. "Never. Please, come here. Right here. Please, don't worry. You can cry all you need to, okay?" His words were arrows as he spoke, whizzing past ears at rapid speeds and trying to find their mark in the sobbing man's mind. He had no idea how to deal with this situation, but he was doing all he could to figure it out.

"I d-don't wanna bother you. I should do it myself, I'm-" He couldn't finish. There was no way he could, not now. It was too late to stop. He buried his face into his tentmate's armor, wrapping his jittering hands around the iron-plated knee. The taller man angled his shoulders down to hold the brown-haired man's head. He held the sobbing man below him gently, hoping his touch might still the churning waters in which his friend was drowning.

"It'll be okay. It'll be alright." He wasn't fully convinced the poor man would be, but saying so wouldn't help right now. "Oh, I'm really so sorry- it's okay."

The man shivered, pulling away slightly from his tentmate's body while coughing, sniffling. _I bet… haha, I bet I'm seriously sad to see now._ He took a few long wheezes of air in and pressed them out slowly, his head still somewhat resting on his comforter's thigh. The taller man sighed, relieved that his friend's storm was beginning to clear.

"I'm sorry. I wish- I had hoped you wouldn't see that. It's unbecoming of a man, especially a knight," he murmured, almost unintelligibly, against the cold iron armor.

The other man showed a gentle face to his tearful friend. "Really, it's alright. I knew something was bothering you besides your wound. Do you want to…?"

It was now or never, he supposed. _Give up the ghost. There's no point in hiding it now. Come on._

"I really… I can't."

The taller man frowned at him, his gaze knowing yet still puzzled. Of course there was something wrong, but he couldn't seem to figure out what it could even be. _Oh, he's looking at me now. I wonder what he's thinking_ , the injured man thought as he pulled himself up off of the ground. _I can only imagine._ He shied away from returning the look from his tentmate, who came closer in response.

"I don't think any less of you, you know. Everyone has their limits." The brown-haired man could only sniff in reponse, still unsure of where his eyes should settle. The taller man sighed and put a hand out. "My friend," he began hesitantly, "Don't worry. This is just you and me right here. I promise you, no one else will ever have to know."

He almost felt like giggling. Maybe at the absurdity of it all, maybe because there was something seriously wrong with him. Yet, he knew his tentmate was speaking with sincerity. As long as he had known him, the man had never been one to violate the feelings of others. The soft and sympathetic green eyes he had in these moments showed that, surely. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, something alien and uncomfortable to him, but finally found the strength to raise his head and meet those watching eyes.

"Yes. Thank you. But, um, I've wasted enough of your time already-"

He was swiftly interrupted by a contradictory, "No, you haven't."

"Well, but I-"

"Oh, no buts about it. It isn't a trouble to me, and I wouldn't have stayed had I not cared."

That alien feeling returned. It was unusual, to say the least, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. Was he afraid, sick, hurt, exhausted? He was sure he was three of those, but how did that relate to this feeling? _It's like I've got a bird in my ribcage, trying to get out_. The other man started to speak again and pulled him from his thoughts.

"I've been keeping my eye out for you. You seem like you disappear somewhere whenever I'm looking, but everytime I've caught sight of you, I've wanted to protect you." A faint redness came across his face, obscured by the darkness, as he continued speaking. "It sounds a little weird when I put it like that, doesn't it? I'm not meaning it to be like I'm creeping around, following you everywhere, but… ah, maybe I'm just digging myself in deeper. In any case, you're very important to me." Another pause came and the man locked eyes with his target. "Did you know that?" he asked, his tone suddenly painted somber.

The brown-haired man found himself just barely able to produce a response that made sense through his nerves and fatigue. "I wasn't really- I don't, uh, know what to say, so it's…" He abandoned the sentence and began anew, murmuring, "I do now."

"You can come to me anytime. Really."

"Thank you."

"I'm serious, don't hesitate to wake me up in the middle of the night or catch me during training. I'll drop it and help you."

"I- oh, you don't have to."

"I want to and I will." The other man looked away then, staring at the roots of the trees far off into the forest, where the blackness of the night swallowed them up. "You need somebody, so it's natural that someone be there. I can't let you live with whatever is bothering you on your own. That'd be cruel."

The man felt tears well up again at the protective, encouraging words, but blinked them away fiercely. It was in vain, though, as it seemed his tentmate knew instinctively of his sudden emotion. _Such empathy he has. It's amazing._ The taller man pulled him into a kind-hearted, sincere embrace. He felt something like happiness starting to grow within himself.

"Oh, d-don't you make me start crying again."

The smile was gleaming at him; he knew it, even in the dark. "Of course. Now let's get you back to camp, buddy. You're not shipshape by any means and I'd rather you not get any more sick than you are."

The man smiled back. He closed his eyes and followed along the path, hands on his newfound friend's shoulders, letting his tentmate take the lead.

No words were needed, for the time being.

...

...

...

 _Well, now there's words._

At least, ones to think about, he figured.

He'd been helped. Someone had cared about him, but for once, he felt at peace. Even with the war waging on around him, he knew it was a change for the better. The kindness of a single man who took pity on his soul would set him straight and keep him subdued. This man, his... _friend. I can't recall really having one before_.

He smiled to himself as he rested on the stained cot he had been on previously. There had been a bit of a clamor in the medicine tent when his absence was brought to Libra's attention, but everything had turned out all right so far. Honestly, he was just glad for the fiasco to be over. Libra had done what he needed to, which involved a scolding and re-bandaging, and now, he could spend his night staring at the sky and searching his mind.

For what, he could only wonder to himself.

 _"Don't worry. This is just you and me right here."_


	5. Each Other's Heroes

The fuse of their companionship was lit with one shopping trip.

At first, the man had been rather nervous to be out in public even with his tentmate at his side. After a few weeks of companionship, there had been a suggestion that they go look at the market together. The man was both delighted and terrified. It was a wonderful occasion, to be together with his friend, doing something new to him as a team. Yet, the strange ironic fear of being seen still lingered in his mind. Of course, his friend could see it plainly that he was hesitant.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be with you, you know," his tentmate said with a reassuring smile. "It's not like I'm throwing you out to the wolves. We'll stick together." To demonstrate, he stood by the man's side and wrangled one arm around the (now-slightly-squirming) man's arm. In a purposeful march, he started forward, almost yanking the brown-haired man off his feet.

The knight sighed and trudged along. It was not uncommon for his friend to act in rather silly ways without realizing it. _It's endearing, and yet…_ It wasn't often he was taken anywhere, even by dragging, so he supposed he shouldn't complain too much. His bedheaded captor glanced back behind him for a moment, catching the listless stare of his victim, and promptly let go. The man suddenly felt bad for looking so unethusiastic. He could tell that his tentmate was only trying to have fun. _And, of course, I've messed something up again._ He was somewhat unsurprised, as he often felt things didn't seem to go the way he wanted rather often.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a wet blanket."

The other man watched him carefully. "Is something bothering you? You've been a bit like this for a few days now. I'm beginning to worry about you."

With that said, the man averted his eyes. He suddenly felt his cheeks heat up in shame, guilt, and nervousness as he mumbled, "No, it's fine. I'm-I'm doing alright." His friend, by the look on his face, did not believe a word of it. "Really. It's okay. I'll try to be a little more cheerful, because now…It's just- I'm only bringing you down."

"Aw, don't pull that one on me, buddy," his tentmate groaned lightheartedly, running a hand through his messy hair and keeping a level gaze on the man in front of him. "I know when something's up."

"I don't want to be a pain."

"You're not a pain, not at all."

"I doubt I'm being the most tolerable of people by being a raincloud all the time, let alone… you know. A good friend."

The taller man barely shakes his head, a gesture of frustrated but polite disagreement. "I don't see why you think I'd stop being your friend just because it can't always be peaches and cream. It's…" He couldn't seem to finish his sentence. The man knew the words were eluding him for now. He wondered if he feared saying the wrong thing just as much as he himself did. All he could do right now was stand, watch the struggle unfold, and try to brush away the unintended sting of the comment itself.

Eventually, it appeared the olive-haired man would make his attempt. "I don't want you to think I'm saying that your feelings are stupid." This was accompanied by a slight sad frown, a darkening of his features. "I would never mean hurt you that way. I spoke without thinking and I'm sorry for that. But I want you to know that you don't need to worry about how you feel affecting our friendship."

"No, I should be the one sorry. I'm the person making the issue."

"Stop." It was sharper than the man had ever expected to hear from his calm, pleasant friend. "You have to stop apologizing for yourself so much. You can't be to blame for everything."

Tears began to well up in the corners of the brown-haired man's eyes and he looked down at the ground. He heard his tentmate breathe out, concern in his air. He cursed himself now for being so weak, being so irrational, being the reason his friend was upset, being the pain that he always felt he was, no matter what others insisted.

He felt gentle arms close around his chest.

"Gods, I'm terrible with this, aren't I? I only want to help you, but I don't know how. I don't know what to do," he said quietly, somberly. "What do I do? What do you need me to do?"

"I just want to disappear."

The bedhead, struck dumb by the spoken thought, could only pull his head back in shock, staring with great discomfort. The broken words had certainly caught him off-guard, not answering the question he'd posed.

"That's what I think of, every day, sometimes even when I'm with you. It's n-not your fault, though."

"…"

"That's what I couldn't say, the day you found me in the woods."

"Why?"

He couldn't find an answer. He didn't know, either. All he could do was shrug and wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, hating the hot tears. He regretted saying anything, as it honestly wouldn't make much of a difference.

His tentmate's face was a mess of unraveling emotions. What was there to see, what could come up, what was bubbling under the surface? It was unenjoyable, he was sure.

"Hey," the brown-haired man said, an attempt to defuse the tension growing thick and to escape the subject. This wasn't what he'd wanted, and it was going to eat away at the day's plans. "Please, why don't we just forget about that for now? I want us to have fun today, like we were supposed to do. We can talk later. I don't want it to ruin our time together."

An eventual nod, however slow and disbelieving it was, was still a nod. The man left his friend's embrace and began to walk hurriedly toward the town, now being the one pulling his friend along. He flashed a smile, maybe a genuine piece sneaking through, and was soon rewarded with a smaller, less robust one in return.

"C'mon. It's nearly noon. We'll miss the pies, and the gods know you can't miss the pies."

Another smile, real this time, and it was okay.

At least, for today.

….

"Wow, I never knew they made these with tomato. I thought this combo would've been gross, but…"

"I know, right? Gods, I could eat this pie all day."

"You could eat anything all day."

His tentmate laughed in response, some food flying from his mouth. He covered it quickly with his hands, then chuckled some more behind them as the shorter man rolled his eyes. _He certainly is a character._ He seemed to have forgotten the earlier incident, or at least put it out of his mind to have a good time. _Not that I would know. He's certainly excited enough, anyway._

The second bout of laughter was interrupted by a small but clear sound of a splat. "Aw, nuts. There's another set of stained pants."

"That's how it goes when you eat tomatoes."

"Hah, you ought to write that rhyme in a book and sell it somewhere. You better autograph my copy first, though, or I'll have to take desperate measures." A glint grew in his eye, elevating his already well-executed comedic routine.

The man now found himself laughing, smiling, feeling unusually good. "Yeah, okay. I'll let you be my number one fan on one condition."

"Oh, and what would that be?" The interest was piqued. Now, for the finale, he'd hopefully come up with something that didn't make him sound like he had half a brain. He then smirked rather deviously, now knowing the unequivocal answer to use.

"You can only eat 3 meals a day for the rest of your life."

"NO! Absolutely not! Sorry, number one fan privilege rejected. I can't agree to those terms, my friend."

"Oh well, I guess I'll just have to get Tharja to be my fan instead."

His tentmate lost it and food went flying.

 _Gross, but I still win this one._

...

Sitting there outside the market, eating food together… it felt like a dream. The jokes eventually died down and they sat next to each other on the grassy hill in a calm, blissful silence. It was ephemeral in nature, but gods if it wasn't a beautiful time. He saw his friend turn to him, the previous lively expression almost gone, slipping from his features as he started to speak.

"Now that it's done, are you willing to talk?"

 _Oh no. Not this again._ He had hoped he'd be able to avoid it for a while longer, but here he was again. Faced with the question, unable to escape through assurance, he felt the need to answer. The weeks they'd spent together now, knowing that his honesty would not be mistreated, soothed his mind. The fun had smoothed him out as well, making it maybe easier for him to open up.

"Where- uh, where should I start?"

"Where most things start: at the beginning."

"Alright, then… here goes."

—

He sat in the darkness, watching out the window. The stars greeted him. They always did, without fail, out in the tiny villages of the plains. Away from the towns and cities, they shined their brightest, untouched by the light of human existence. He loved them so. Such a sweet constant.

If he sat here long enough, it would be dawn again. Dawn would say hi, too.

Today, he turned 12 years old.

He knew that there was no point to saying it. No one ever cared nor noticed. He used to be much more upset about than he was, but after all these years, he knew it was pointless to be torn up about that, of all things. His eyes could be dry for this one transgression among many others.

It was honestly all his fault. He deserved it for his selfishness, for his attitude, for everything he'd ever done wrong. By now, he'd learned, but it was too late. He wished he'd never been the way he was. If he hadn't, they'd have stopped ignoring him. Now, the years had turned the disregard into actually forgetting him.

His father walked past him, dutifully heading out to check the crops before turning in for the night, not sparing a glance for his kneeling son. Some boys, a few of them being the boy's kin, followed him with equal devotion out the door.

His mother sat in the chair at the other end of the room, holding two crochet needles in her hand. He couldn't tell what she was making, but he knew it wasn't for him. At least one of his brothers would get it. He hoped the recipient appreciated it, found it pretty, said the necessary thank-yous.

The stars reached for him from far away in the sky. He heeded their call, pulling himself from the floor and heading out.

He had no fear. No one would see him ( _maybe, maybe, don't be so sure_ ), so he was safe and sound.

 _Look at those stars. Never forget them._

The boy's oldest brother soon approached from behind, putting a hand on his shoulder and quietly asking for him to come inside. There had to be an end, he supposed.

The stars could wait.

—

His tentmate was silent as he spoke of his life in the village: his family, his hurt, his bad choices, his dreams. It was all becoming a faded memory these days, but he spoke as honestly as he could recall. All through the reminiscing and digging up old wounds, he could see his friend's demeanor shift more and more towards sympathy. At the end, he closed his eyes and breathed a solemn sigh.

"If only I had known… gods, I'm so sorry." The bedhead curled his fingers, placed over his mouth in an anxious fashion, into loose fists. "I…"

"It's okay. It's all in the past. In the end, it wasn't all bad; they still sent me my armor. Then again, my brother probably set that up."

"I can't believe how you managed to deal with such loneliness and poverty for all those years, with only your brother."

The man scratched at the back of his neck, soon replying, "It was just how things were, and after being so terrible to them..."

His tentmate gave no response after a decently long pause, so he decided to pose a question of his own. "What was your life like?"

"Not half as bad as yours. Not even a quarter as bad. My family loved me, I had a decent home and friends, and I learned a lot about potions and mixtures from my father."

"Oh, was your father an apothecary?"

His tentmate nodded, seemingly more excited as the topic of his father's profession came up. "Yes, it's the family business. My brother and my father could hold down the fort without me, so I decided I'd protect the realm, haha." He smiled at his own small humor, rested his arms on his knees, and directed that blissful expression at his friend. "Ah... Man, we really had a good time today, am I right?"

"Yeah. I had a lot of fun. I'm… it was good to talk," the man said in low voice, wondering if anyone out there could hear their conversation.

"I'm just happy you're feeling better. It pains me to see you hurting like that. Please, don't ever disappear. I really l-... c-care about you."

The man didn't seem to notice the lightning-quick slip. His friend's eyes darted away for just a moment before they came back and settled on his face. His face was red, flushed from some emotion that the brown-haired man couldn't really read. _Is he… embarrassed? I don't think I've ever seen him like this, so flustered. He's always so collected. Was it me?_ The man's face grew warm as well when the thought ran through his head. He at least hoped the feelings his friend had were good ones. He gave a nervous titter at the bedhead, who responded with a more hearty but still quivering chuckle to complement it.

Standing up suddenly, his tentmate put out a hand to help up the man, who gladly took it. He needed it at this point; the rush of anxiety had made him shaky, so the stability was appreciated. "Hey," his tentmate said. "We'd-we'd better get back, you know? It's getting late, so…"

"R-right, yeah. Good point. Let's, um, go."

They stood together and the man noticed that his bedheaded friend couldn't meet his eyes. _Puzzling, this man._ Yet, all of how he was acting made him want to know more, to figure him out. _All in due time._

As they made their way into their tent, the other man finally turned around. He seemed to have regained his composure and was now undoubtedly ecstatic. "Tomorrow, we're going to have a great time."

"Huh?"

"Your birthday, remember?"

 _Oh_. He felt sort of stupid. He imagined most people didn't forget their own birthday. He was also surprised his friend remembered it. _Well, not really. He's the kind of guy who'd never forget that._ "Yeah. You're right, it is."

Another grin, bigger than the last. "It's going to be great, I promise. I've got some big plans for you!"

"Oh, well, y-you didn't have to."

"Yes, I did, you silly goose. It's your birthday! Why wouldn't I do something for you? You're my best friend, after all."

"Your best friend… Am I really?" The thought struck him. He found it hard to even say what he had managed to just get out. He'd never really stopped to consider the depth of their friendship. By this point, the man knew it to be something special. It was… _It's the best thing that's ever happened to me._

The other man's face nearly gleamed with pleasant emotion. "Of course!" He quickly stepped forward and pulled his friend into an excited-puppy sort of hug. "You really are. Never doubt it. I want to be by your side for as long as you'll have me." A short pause and he stepped back, that face of his now a bit mixed: somewhat wistful, somewhat smiling, somewhat fraught with nerves. At least, as far as the man could tell, what with the hug leaving him a little more surprised than he'd expected moments before. "However long that may be, I'll be here. I promise."

"That will never happen. I-I mean, uh, that I-I'll leave you. Um, that's not…" He gave up at this point. He could already see his tentmate cracking up a little. "Y-you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do, for sure." With a quick look at the world outside of the tent and swift change of subject, he added, "You ready to turn in for the night? I'm beat, after the crazy day we've had."

The man nodded, turning to mess with his sheets. As he pulled off his clothes ( _Be careful, don't want to yank on that old wound. You'd think by now it would've stopped hurting at all..._ ), he found himself running back through the day. It had been quite the experience. _Certainly a happy one. It's been a long time since I've been there for anything other than errands._ He was interrupted by his tentmate's even voice.

"Hey. You rest easy, okay? Tomorrow will come quickly." The other man sounded more like he was convincing himself, but the man took it at face value as he climbed into bed.

"Yeah. I will and I'll be ready."

"Hah, I sure hope so."

"Good night and sleep well. The new day awaits."

"I will, and you too, soon-to-be-birthday-boy. Good night." The man thought he heard him say something else far more softly to himself. He thought it might have been a creation of his mind. It could have been anything, too. _Enough of that, though_. His mind crawled and wandered to words he wished he'd make known. He had so much inside, yet it was so hard to say. Someday, hopefully, he'd find the strength, the tongue, to make them heard.

 _I want to us to be happy like this every single day until we die. We'll be each other's heroes. I would do anything for you. You noticed me, you cared about me, and I'll never forget it._ The thoughts were rapid, mostly unformed, and he sincerely hoped these weren't crazy. They didn't feel like it.

Someday, he'd say it. But for now...

 _I will make this promise to you. I swear it on my heart._

 _I won't disappear._


End file.
